


god save the queen

by stars_in_our_eyes



Category: 35mm: A Musical Exhibition - Oliver
Genre: Blood, Death, F/F, Murder, Poisoning, Prom, Time Loop, c’est la vie, tags are hard to do, this might be terrible but oh well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-03
Updated: 2020-02-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 06:42:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22549528
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stars_in_our_eyes/pseuds/stars_in_our_eyes
Summary: After the fateful prom that left her best friend and five others dead, Julie Jenkins is thrust into a loop of the week, soon realizing the only way to escape is to prevent the murders. But more is at stake than she realizes.Check Sara, choose Sara, vote for Sara Berry....
Relationships: Julie Jenkins & Patricia Moore, Sara Berry/Julie Jenkins
Comments: 16
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> alright this is just a lil prologue but! i am really excited about this story folks! if you don’t know it’s based on the song the ballad of sara berry and i’m really thrilled to be writing this!

It was midnight and Julie Jenkins, Prom Queen, couldn’t sleep. She nearly fell over as she struggled to get into her wheelchair by herself. She crept to the living room, wheeling herself forward as quietly as she could, to the TV, which was still playing some 90’s sitcom that was a favourite of her father’s. She grabbed the remote and started flipping through channels, until she finally landed on the news.

“In local news, six teenage girls were brutally murdered today. The suspect, 18 year old Sara Berry, was apprehended and brought in. Her trial is set for an unknown date, but anonymous sources say it’s highly likely even if she is deemed innocent she will be sent to an insane asylum due to her apparent loss of sanity,” the female anchor said calmly.

Julie felt sick to her stomach. They didn’t even say her name. Her best friend was just a statistic, just one of six dead girls.

No doubt about it, this had been the worst night of her life.


	2. p is for patricia drinking poisoned punch

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn’t my best work but oh well!

It had started out as the perfect night. Julie’s best friend, Patricia Moore, came over to help her get ready for the prom.

Julie sat in front of the mirror, curling her unruly brown hair with a curling iron.

Patricia sat on Julie’s bed. She examined the flowy lavender dress Julie wore. “I think you look great in this dress, but you’re gonna look even better when you win that crown!”

Julie laughed, putting bobby pins in her hair to keep the curls in. “You really think so?”

“Cross my heart and hope to die,” Patricia said solemnly, placing a hand on her chest.

Looking back, that was not the right thing to say.

Julie’s dad knocked on the door, calling, “Your dates have arrived!”

Patricia grinned at Julie and pushed her to the front door.

A beaming blue-eyed boy stood in the doorway beside a short, dark-haired girl. The girl smiled upon seeing Patricia, her glossy black lipstick a stark contrast with her pearly white teeth. 

Julie and Patricia reached the front door and Patricia kept hold of Julie’s wheelchair, which she had adorned with ribbons and papier-mâché roses. Admittedly it wasn’t her best idea, as the ribbons kept getting caught in the wheels, but Julie appreciated the sentiment.

“You look amazing, Julie,” the boy said with a smile. Liam Hart, the most popular boy in school. Boyfriend of queen bee Sara Berry and well-liked among all crowds.

Julie smiled back. “You too.”

“Come on, let’s go!” Patricia squealed excitedly.

Julie’s dad drove, or “chauffeured” as he liked to say, them to the prom.

The gymnasium was pulsing with light and music and colour and energy as Julie entered. 

“Whoa,” she breathed. The theme was Under the Sea (yes, cliche, Julie knew) and the gym had been decked out with blue and green streamers, seashells and starfish decorations dotted the room, and papier-mâché bubbles hung from the ceiling. Some low-budget DJ blasted music from the turntables.

For almost an hour Patricia and Julie danced and spun each other around, giggling, losing themselves in the euphoria of the night.

“And now, ladies, gentlemen, and non-binary royalty,” the emcee said dramatically, “tonight’s first slow dance! Grab a special someone and hit the dance floor.” He started playing a soft song, one that Julie had always loved.

“May I have this dance?” Liam asked her.

“Uh, definitely.” Julie wheeled out onto the dance floor.

It was hard to dance in a wheelchair, Julie admitted, but it didn’t matter, not really. Not when she was smiling and laughing and having the best time of her young life.

As the song ended, Liam gave her a heart-melting smile and went to get ready for prom court.

Patricia took a long sip of punch from her red solo cup. “Isn’t this fun!” She practically shouted over the loud pop music.

For some reason she was turning pale and green and turning pale and greener by the second. Julie’s face creased with worry.

“Your face is turning green, Pat! C’mon, let’s get you to a washroom.”

“Fiiiiiiiine,” Patricia drawled as they went to the washroom.

Julie sat patiently in the wheelchair stall with Patricia. Pat bent over the toilet. “I’m gonna throw up.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Julie comforted her, clutching her hand.

Patricia vomited into the toilet. She looked up at Julie, face white as a sheet. “Jules, am I dying? I feel like I’m dying.”

Julie, trembling with fear, called the cops. Something gave her the suspicion that fruit and a little alcohol wasn’t all that had been in Patricia’s drink.

“Jules...”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Julie repeated helplessly, still holding her hand. But it was growing so cold, so waxy. Patricia slipped out of her grasp lifelessly.

Julie’s heart stopped for a second. “Pat?”

She didn’t respond.

Shaking with fear, Julie pressed her ear to Patricia’s chest. No heartbeat.

Julie sat up slowly, hot tears springing to her eyes. _Oh god oh fuck not Pat oh fuck_.

She was still sobbing over Patricia’s corpse when the police arrived.


	3. starting over

Gasping, Julie woke up in a cold sweat in her bed, remembering Patricia’s lifeless stare. 

It was fine.

Everything was fine.

“Hey, kiddo,” Julie’s dad said as he entered the room. “Ready for the best week of your life?”

Funny. That’s what he’d said at the beginning of last week. What a sick fucking joke. 

Julie quickly got dressed and wheeled out to her bus stop. She stared down at the ground, still feeling the phantom touch of Pat’s cold hand.

“Hey, Jules, how are you?” A concerned, familiar voice asked. Julie looked up in annoyance, ready to respond with some cutting remark about how absolutely damn _perfect_ everything was going, what with being an amputee and having her best friend murdered.

Her best friend’s face stared back at her, brown eyes wide with sympathy.

Julie stuttered, “How are—you’re—I thought that—“

Patricia frowned in worry. “Jules, are you feeling okay?”

“Um, I’m fine,” Julie spluttered, still at a loss for words. Because, really, how could she say, _hey, you’re dead now, just so you know, nice talking to you_?

Something really strange was going on here.

The bus ride to school was the same as usual—loud and crowded, but the two girls still enjoyed talking and laughing together as usual. 

As the bus pulled up to the school, Patricia loyally waited by Julie’s side for the ramp that had been installed specifically for her to lower. Julie wheeled herself down the ramp, Patricia trailing close behind.

“So, how was your weekend? Are you excited for the prom?” Patricia asked brightly.

Julie sighed. She couldn’t do this anymore, she couldn’t just pretend everything was fine and cool and _normal_. Because it wasn’t. Yesterday, Patricia Moore had been dead. Today, Patricia Moore was alive and well. And asking about the prom that was the source of her demise, no less.

“Pat, something really weird is going on,” Julie warned.

Patricia frowned, her brown eyes scrutinizing Julie’s face. “What do you mean?”

“I mean...” Julie exhaled a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. “Yesterday you were... you were..” She couldn’t bring herself to say it. Not to Pat. Not to those pleading puppy dog eyes. 

_she deserves to know the truth,_ something whispered to her. Julie closed her eyes, bracing for impact. “Pat.... you’re supposed to be dead.”

Pat shook her head in disbelief. “Jules, what is this about? Really?”

Julie felt tears well up and her voice quavered as she continued, “You died on prom night. Of poisoning. Someone put something in the punch you drank. I saw your corpse, Pat.”

Pat just shook her head again. “That’s impossible. Prom’s on Friday, and I’m right here, see? Maybe you should talk to Mrs. Daley about this, she can help you, okay?” 

Pat didn’t believe her. Maybe she was right, maybe this was some sort of mental condition one of her parents unknowingly passed on— but then there was the body. Pat’s hand had felt so real one second, and so cold and smooth the next. So, so cold. The fear and the rage and the guilt she had felt when she discovered Pat’s heartbeat frozen had felt more real than anything she’d ever felt before.

Julie had no damn clue what was going on, but one thing was for sure— she was going to stop Patricia from going to the prom, no matter what.

**Friday  
Prom Night**

It happened again. It fucking happened again. She’d begged and begged for her not to go, but to no avail. Patricia just thought she was paranoid and needed mental help. Now Julie was once again gazing at the hollow shell of her best friend. 

_start over,_ a quiet voice in her head whispered. _you need to start over. you need to get it right._

____

____

____And so she promised herself that she would. Patricia Moore was going to live— even if it killed her._ _ _ _


End file.
